


Secrets, Secrets (Tell Me Your Name?)

by Firalla11



Series: Dreamwidth Transfers [3]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Chicago Blackhawks, M/M, Secret Admirer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-06 19:17:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17351045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Firalla11/pseuds/Firalla11
Summary: “Looks like someone’s got anadmirer,”Andrew says, laughing to himself.“Shut up, I do not,” Nick hisses. He can feel his cheeks going red.





	Secrets, Secrets (Tell Me Your Name?)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt: Leddy/Saad "Secret Admirer." This is So Much Fluff. Enjoy <3
> 
> Big thanks to J for helping me with gift ideas <3

Nick eyes the tupperware container on the shelf critically. It wasn’t here when he left for the showers. There’s no note, and no one’s fessed up to having left it, and he’s been on enough teams to know better than to open it – or even touch something left in his locker – without checking it out first.

“What’s that?” Nick jerks in surprise, Andrew appearing at his elbow, dressed and ready to go.

“I don’t know,” Nick says.

“What’s in it?”

“I haven’t opened it yet.”

“Who’s it from?”

“No idea.”

Andrew huffs. “What _do_ you know, Nick?”

“That you’re a brat,” Nick says, dry. He elbows Andrew, shifting away before Andrew can return the favour. “If you’re so curious why don’t you open it, huh?”

“Fine,” Andrew says, rolling his eyes. He snags the box. Nick takes a step back as he cracks the lid, weary, but nothing happens.

Nothing aside from Andrew whooping. Loudly. “Looks like someone’s got an _admirer_ ,” he says, laughing to himself.

Nick shoves at him, casting a furtive look around. No one seems to be paying them any attention, luckily, too used to Andrew’s outbursts to even bother looking over.

“Shut up, I do not,” Nick hisses. He can feel his cheeks going red.

“Look,” Andrew says, shoving the container in his face.

Nick takes it, looks down at the… cookies? They’re some short of sugar cookie, he thinks, totally normal.

Except for the tiny red iced hearts.

He takes the box from Andrew’s hands, slamming it shut before anyone else can see. His face is on fire.

He looks around again. This has to be some sort of joke. Some sort of prank. Someone has to be watching, waiting for his reaction, but still, no one’s looking.

He shakes his head and reaches for his jacket, setting the container back on the shelf, staring as he tugs his jacket on, like answers will appear on blue-green plastic if he just looks long enough.

Brandon comes back, fresh from the shower, water beading on his skin, just as Nick picks the container up again. He smiles a greeting, forcing himself to keep his eyes up, not to follow the water rolling down Brandon’s skin–

“What’s in the box?” Brandon asks.

“Nothing,” Nick says, grabbing Andrew’s arm, tugging him away before he can say anything. “Later, Saader.”

“Bye?”

Andrew starts laughing as soon as the locker room door closes behind them.

He doesn’t stop until they get to the car.

*****

The cookies are good, he discovers once he risks trying one – so good he has to give half to Andrew to avoid eating them all over the next couple days. He still doesn’t have an answer about who left them by the time they're gone. Or about _why_. Most likely they were part of some prank that didn’t work out as planned. Nothing else makes sense.

An admirer? Of course not. That was just– Andrew being Andrew.

He doesn’t have any _admirers_ , secret or otherwise.

It wouldn’t be so bad to have one though, he thinks, not if it was the right person.

*****

He finds a little plate of brownies after practice a week later, the morning after a bad game, one where every mistake they made seemed to end up in the back of their net.

They made a lot of mistakes.

Just like when he found the cookies, no one is watching him when he takes a look around.

Also like the cookies, the brownies are _delicious_. He hoards them a little more carefully, rations them out, makes them last, even when Andrew shoots him pleading looks.

He doesn’t know what’s going on, but he’s going to enjoy it while it lasts.

*****

There’s a new pair of gloves in his stall in Minnesota, waiting for him after the game is over.

Nick picks them up, bemused. They’re identical to his old ones, ones he lost a few days ago, before they left Chicago, and he hasn’t had time to grab new ones. He’s been making due, mostly keeping his hands in his pockets, trying to avoid the chill; someone must’ve noticed, he guesses.

He slips them on and flexes his fingers, smiling to himself. He looks up when Brandon nudges him. “What’s got you in such a good mood, huh?”

“New gloves,” Nick says.

Brandon looks down, then back up at Nick’s face. “They look like your old ones.”

“They’re exactly the same.”

“And that’s a good thing?”

Nick nods. “That’s a great thing.”

He loves them. They’re warm and soft and they work with the touchscreen on his phone.

“Glad you found them then,” Brandon says.

“Yeah,” Nick says. “Me too.”

He wishes he could thank whoever left them, but he has no idea who it was.

*****

The next thing he finds in his locker stall is another container of cookies. Chocolate chip this time – his favourite. They’re rich and chewy and chocolatey; maybe the best thing he’s ever put in his mouth.

He still doesn’t know who’s doing this, but he knows better than to ask. It would travel through the room faster than he could blink, and it would be the end of the whole thing, probably.

He doesn’t want that.

Maybe that’s weird, but he’s enjoying it, enjoying the little surprises – thoughtful sometimes, or just plain sweet. They make him smile.

If only he could figure out who’s leaving them. If he could do that, he could return the favour or thank them or _something_.

He’d like to be able to do that, he thinks.

*****

It’s about the time he finds a new tie in his bag – deep green, with a subtle shine to it – a couple weeks after the first batch of cookies, that he starts to think that maybe Andrew was right.

There’s a typed-up note, the first one they’ve left, that says _It’ll bring out your eyes._

Nick flushes as he reads it, then he jams the note back in his bag.

So. Maybe he _does_ have an admirer. Or something. Someone had to sneak the tie into his bag sometime between leaving Chicago and getting to Nashville, after all, and no one would go through all this – typing up a note and baking him things and buying him things, and leaving it all without getting caught – for a prank, would they? What would be the point?

*****

He wears the tie to the game.

Andrew notices. Of course Andrew notices. But he doesn’t say anything until they’re on the bus, heading to the rink, surrounded by people. He wouldn’t be Andrew if he tried to have this conversation somewhere quiet.

“Looking good, Leds,” he says. He’s sitting with Boller in the seats in front of Nick. “Doesn’t he look good, Saader?”

Nick’s never wished he was invisible before, but it turns out there really is a first time for everything.

“Leds always looks good,” Brandon says, and Nick can’t quite make himself turn, isn’t sure he wants to see the expression on Brandon’s face, then Brandon’s nudging, asking him, “Is that a new tie?”

Nick nods mutely. This is the longest bus ride of his _life_.

“You should wear green more,” Andrew’s continuing, because _of course he is_. “Right, Saader?”

“Right,” Brandon says. “Because of your eyes.”

Nick doesn’t have time to process that, to figure out why it sounds so familiar, before they’re parking and getting off the bus.

He feels warm, though.

(It's not just because he's blushing.)

*****

They’re flying home, at the end a long road trip a few days later, when Nick comes back from the bathroom to find a little tissue paper package on his seat.

He picks it up and looks around and just like every time so far, no one is watching him back. He shrugs to himself and unties the ribbon. There’s a note that says _Hope these make your day a little sweeter_. Underneath it is a handful of Hershey’s kisses.

Nick smiles. They’ve done their job and he hasn’t even eaten one yet.

He hopes whoever’s doing this knows how much he appreciates it.

He pauses. Whoever it was had to walk down the aisle carrying a blue and purple tissue paper package and then leave it in his seat. Someone had to have noticed something. Nobody on the plane is _that_ stealthy.

He nudges Brandon, curious. Brandon turns to him, pulling out an earbud. “Sorry, did you say something?”

Nick bites his lip, then gestures to the tissue paper in his lap. “Did you see who left this?”

“I didn’t see anyone come by, sorry,” Brandon says, shaking his head. “What is it? Another present from your secret admirer?”

Nick shoots him a look, tips of his ears going red. “Andrew told you?”

Brandon smiles sheepishly. “We’ve talked about it,” he admits.

The seatbelt light comes on, prompting them to pack their things to land before he can ask Brandon if he has any idea who it could be.

*****

“You look tired.”

Nick sighs, looking up from his phone. Brandon's not the first person to say that this morning. “Couldn’t sleep,” he says. “And I ran out of tea.”

Brandon frowns. “Sucks, Ledpipe.”

Nick nods, turning back to his phone when Brandon nudges him and walks away. He scrolls through his twitter feed, retweeting a few things but mostly reading, trying to ignore the noise of the airport.

He blinks when a paper cup is waved under his nose.

He looks up again, surprised. Brandon's grinning at him, a cup in each hand. “I hear you ran out of tea,” he says, holding out a cup for Nick.

Nick pockets his phone and takes it, inhaling the steam.

“Thanks,” he says, wrapping his fingers around the cup. “You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” Brandon says, shrugging and dropping into the empty seat beside him.

They sit together until they’re ready to board, sipping their drinks, a little pocket of quiet in the bustle of the airport.

*****

There’s a box of his favourite tea – apple cinnamon – waiting for him when he gets to the rink the first morning back from the trip.

*****

Nick finds is another container of cookies in his locker not long after that, same as the very first except the hearts are… blue? He’s not sure why, but he’s not complaining either.

He’s eating the first of a tiny handful he brought on the trip, chewing moodily as they fly, but even these can’t quite brighten his mood. It’s too bad. He sighs and puts the rest back in his bag. He’s going to wait to eat them until he can enjoy them.

He startles at Brandon's quiet, “Everything okay?”

He thought Brandon was absorbed in whatever he has playing on his iPad, but no. He’s got his earbuds out and he’s shooting Nick a concerned, curious look.

Nick smiles sadly. “Finally got around to unpacking the last of my stuff. Think I lost something in the move back from Rockford.” It hurts, saying it out loud.

“Something important?” Brandon asks.

“A book,” Nick says, looking away, somewhere over Brandon's shoulder. “A book of constellations. My grandpa and I used to go out at night when I was a kid, when everything was clear, and he’d point constellations out, tell me about them, show me how to find them, and later I’d find them in the book and we’d read about them. When it was colder we’d drink hot chocolate to warm up. Pretty sure I have most of the book memorized still, even the stuff about the constellations we could never see.”

He sighs, shaking his head. “I can’t believe I lost it,” he adds, mostly to himself.

Brandon bumps their shoulders together. “You could still find it.”

“Maybe,” Nick says. He doubts it though. He's looked everywhere, called his landlord back in Rockford; they couldn't find it either. It’s gone.

Brandon nudges him again. “You want to watch Mission Impossible with me?” He’s in the middle of a re-watch, if Nick’s remember right.

“Sure,” Nick says. Anything to take his mind off the missing book.

*****

The gifts stop after that. It takes him a little while to notice, but he gets it. He understands. They’re busy. It’s playoffs. He doesn’t want anyone to be distracted. _He_ doesn’t want to be distracted.

Nick gets home from lunch with some of the guys – Boller and Smitty and Mo – surprised to see Brandon on the couch with Andrew. It’s odd they didn’t come to lunch, but he guesses they didn’t feel like going out. He greets them both, then heads down the hall to get changed.

He stops dead in the doorway when he flicks the light on.

There’s a book leaning against his pillow.

He knows he didn’t leave it there.

He looks around, but nothing else looks out of place. He moves closer, breath catching as he realizes what he’s seeing. He picks the book up, brushes his fingers over its cover, then down its spine.

It’s a book on constellations. A very _specific_ book on constellations.

It’s the same as the one he lost, right down to the volume number. It’s not the _same_ book – it’s missing the little notations his grandpa left in the margins, he sees when he flips through, missing the little tear in the back cover, one they covered over with tape, but it’s– everything else is exactly the same.

He swallows, takes an unsteady breath.

There’s only one person who knew anything about this, who could’ve left this for him.

He’s sitting out the living room, watching that awful duck show. Duck Hunters? He doesn’t know. It’s not important anyway.

Nick holds the book to his chest and pads out of his room, out to the living room. He’s not surprised to see it’s just Brandon sitting on the couch now; Andrew’s bedroom door was closed when he passed.

He sits, facing Brandon, setting the book in his lap. He smooths his hand over the cover again, then he looks up. Brandon's watching him, lip caught between his teeth.

Nick knocks their ankles together. “You have something you want to tell me, B?”

Brandon looks away, looks past him, his hands twisted together in his lap. “You looked… You looked really sad when you talked about the book,” he says. “And I couldn’t just– I tried calling your old landlord and they said the people who moved in after you didn’t find it, so I figured this would be the next best thing? I got your brother’s number off Andy and had him send me a pic so I could find a copy. I mean, I know it’s not the same, but I thought–”

“I love you,” Nick blurts, and that’s– not what he meant to say, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t true.

Brandon gapes, Nick’s heart pounding in his chest, then a slow, wide smile stretches across Brandon’s lips. “You do?”

Nick nods. It’s not a new realization, but it one he’s been doing his best to ignore.

Maybe- maybe he doesn’t have to anymore.

Brandon blows out a long breath. “You have to know I love you too, right?”

“I’m starting to figure that out,” Nick says. His cheeks hurt from smiling. He nudges Brandon. “Icing hearts, really?”

Brandon ducks his head. “Andy’s idea.”

That. Explains so much.

“He knew this whole time, didn’t he? That it was you?”

Brandon nods. “The whole thing was his idea,” he says. “I mean, not what to get, but how to do it? Yeah, that was– most of it was him.”

“And you just went along with it?” Nick asks.

Brandon shrugs. “I like making you smile.”

Nick’s breath catches. He clears his throat. “Yeah, well. You’re pretty good at it.”

“I like to think so.”

Nick swallows, meeting Brandon's gaze. “I think– you should probably kiss me now.”

“Yeah?”

Nick nods. His pulse kicks up as Brandon shifts closer, until their thighs are pressed together, Brandon's hand coming up to cup his jaw. Brandon leans in. His eyes are very, very blue this close.

Nick closes his eyes, presses his lips to Brandon's, close-mouthed. Chaste and achingly sweet–

They spring apart when Andrew whoops, Nick whipping around to stare.

“Sorry,” Andrew says, and he actually sounds like he means it. “Just– it’s about time.”

 _Yeah,_ Nick thinks. _It really is._


End file.
